View full sizeThe Associated PressPenn State coach Joe Paterno, seen here at an October news conference, died Sunday at a Pennsylvania hospital.

There was considerable confusion in the final hours of Joe Paterno's life. The winningest coach in college football history was reported dead on Saturday by a couple of news outlets and Penn State fan websites. Then, Paterno was swiftly resurrected by friends and family members, including sons Jay and Scott.

Paterno, 85, died Sunday from lung cancer. He'd been in the hospital since Jan. 13, and those who spent time with Paterno said he was frail, weak and wearing a wig.

Paterno's family protected him on Saturday. They shielded his dignity by asking for privacy and, later, angrily questioning how anyone could trample the dignity of a dying man by reporting him already dead. And so, when Paterno was at his weakest and unable to protect himself, his family stepped forward and did it for him. I wonder, in these final hours, if Paterno sensed the sad irony that his life became.

Everyone always wants to start the Paterno discussion by pointing out his stellar record in 46 seasons as the Nittany Lions football coach. As if the measure of a man is most accurately recorded by the results on the scoreboard. But no discussion about Paterno will ever be complete without noting that Penn State's Board of Trustees fired him Nov. 9 in the aftermath of the child sex abuse charges against former assistant and close Paterno friend, Jerry Sandusky.

Paterno had a chance years ago, on multiple occasions, to protect a long line of 10 defenseless and weak children who alleged they were abused by Sandusky. He had an opportunity to shield them, and ensure their dignity was left intact. The coach was in the unique and powerful position as the football czar of Pennsylvania to do more than what was legally required and make sure that Sandusky's alleged path of destruction included the least amount of wreckage.

Maybe none at all.

But Paterno failed those children, by even his own account.

He should have done more. He might have, too, years ago if this Sandusky mess all hadn't unfolded while the world happened to be calling for an aging and stubborn Paterno to step down. We all know where Paterno succeeded and failed. That will never be in doubt.

I wish he'd done more to stand up for those kids. You wish he'd done more. Paterno wishes he'd followed up with his bosses, or immediately fired Sandusky and banned him from bringing children around the football facility, or simply called law enforcement and said, "I think I have a pedophile in my football program."

Water under the bridge, we're told. Penn State's moved on. Nothing to see here. But the gears of Paterno's legacy will always be gummed up with his failure on the Sandusky matter. A truth like that becomes clear on day like Saturday.

Sandusky faces more than 50 counts involving sexual acts with 10 boys since 1994. He's pleaded not guilty. Meanwhile, Paterno fought for his life on Saturday night as his family grappled for his dignity. His family members were angry about the "death" and one Penn State fan website issued an apology.

A family spokesperson, Dan McGinn said early on Saturday, "His doctors have now characterized his status as serious. His family will have no comment on the situation and asks that their privacy be respected during this difficult time."

Later, came the confirmation that Paterno was dead.

In the final hours, we were still learning from this Paterno thing. He taught us all something as he was struggling to hold onto his coaching career at Penn State, working too long and with misguided goals. Sure, he won more games than anyone else who ever coached. But what did that get him? What does it mean? None of it matters given what we've learned about Paterno's last couple of decades in charge.

He won a pile of games?

Can you really start the Paterno conversation like that?

I wish Paterno peace. But first, I wish peace in the hearts of the alleged victims of abuse. I wish wisdom and perspective for a long line of ambitious college football coaches who follow Paterno in chasing what they believe to be success. I wish courage for anyone who confronts the kind of life-changing decision that Paterno faced in the 1990s.

If he had done more, this column would be about a decent man who stood up for defenseless children, and graduated his players, and built the lives young men in a world that mostly just rewards on-field success.

Paterno was in no condition to speak up for himself early Saturday as he battled for his life. He was lucky to have plenty of loved ones around to do it for him. I'm sure it's what any of us would do for our own father if he were frail, defenseless and lying in a hospital bed, fighting a monster named cancer.

You might note that I haven't mentioned anywhere in this column the number of victories Paterno had in his career.